The Fallout
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: Post 7x10 fic. Donna and Harvey struggle to deal with the kiss aftermath, when other life complications make Harvey re-think his response. Angsty, and probably filled with my favorite cliches.
1. Chapter 1

An actress, a secretary, a C-O-O, and _Donna_ always come prepared. Not that she isn't capable of spontaneity, but she at least makes sure she's planned for the fallout before the event.

Kissing Harvey isn't prepared. There's no plan for the aftermath.

The rooftop perhaps isn't the best place to collect her thoughts and settle the drum still beating in her chest. But he'd been left standing in her office with her necessities to leave, and all the other options are too close to the tug that may pull her back. They're too accessible _to him_. She is still working out whether she wants to be _accessed_ by him. Whether or not she hopes he will try to find her.

Somehow in the quick seconds before she thought the bold move would exact clarity. One thing is now clear. Feelings between them had been brewing in a pressure pot for thirteen plus years. Which leaves her with an even murkier understanding of the situation that's them.

The door creaks and bangs closed. She sucks in a breath, gripping her fingers into the wall of the rooftop, trying to ground herself for the words to come.

He stalks toward her, stopping abruptly as if he doesn't trust being too close. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened?"

His tie is askew, his hair messed. He's affected whether by anger or emotion, or just that her hands had invaded the parts that made him appear the most composed.

She doesn't answer at first. She's having a hard enough time deciphering the answer for herself, let alone lend herself to crutch him when their recent distance puts her out of practice.

He sets his jaw and settles a glare at her. "Donna, I deserve an explanation."

She searches the mass of square lights in neighboring offices, wondering if any of the rest are facing moments as big as they are. She frowns but turns because he's never going to let the night rest. "It's something that was long overdue and I needed an answer."

"You want to fill me in on that? Because I just got blindsided."

"It hit me I didn't want to wake up one day and regret never seeing if I felt something with you."

He stalks closer. "Did you somehow forget, I have a _girlfriend_ for godsakes. And you better than anybody know my feelings about… what my mother did."

"I wasn't thinking about her, or even you and that's why I apologized. This was something I needed to find out, for me."

He shoots her a look that's some kind of cross between _what the fuck_ and actual concern for her sanity. He perhaps looks even more appalled because he's selfish and doesn't understand her being first without him. Which should be her clue but she's insufferable when it comes to giving him a break.

"And what do you know now?" He's challenging her, but the break in his voice and the swallow that follow clue her in he's at least somewhat affected. It's clear what he's asking. He's not asking for her, he's asking to help him process his own response.

"No Harvey. You're not going to use me to gauge your own feelings."

"Like you just used me?" His eyes are wide, his temples pulsing. He's panicking. He wants to know that his risk is something that's under his control. And if one thing was clear when he responded back to her, it's that he's not fully under control when it comes to her. But she can see through his entire being he's not ready to admit that tonight, or maybe ever.

She's not sure how she's ended up here, in a place she can't fix or turn back from without being the emotional mastermind and she's so shaken herself she can't pilot the giant ship that's become the two of them.

Setting her shoulders, she blinks back tears, holding her head high to face him. "It hit me tonight, our chance, if we _ever_ had one, was slipping away. I couldn't live without finding out." Her shoulders rise and fall, because despite of telling herself _and_ Mike she is sure, she's opened up a wound she's not sure she can ever heal again. "But maybe that was a mistake."

He falls back, and his lips waver. "Maybe." He sounds unsure because the man can't ever hold on to her, or let her go.

The word scrapes into the damage already done, and she needs space again. She wipes at her face, and forces herself to step away. From him, from the night, and from trying to make love stick from a man that had sent her more signals than currently installed in the entirety of New York city that he'd never have the guts to go all in with her.

If it wasn't so late, she'd want to walk the way home, but instead she boards a cab before she can wonder if Harvey has regrets.

She needs someone. A friend. She's just self-carved the rest of Harvey from inside her and it leaves her raw, empty, and vulnerable in a way she's never felt before.

With shaky hands she texts Rachel.

 _I kissed him._

 **Rachel:** OMG. Where are you? What happened?

 **Donna:** In a cab, heading home.

 **Donna:** I think I've made a horrible mistake. I know it's late and I don't want to keep you.

 **Rachel:** I'm coming over to spend the night. And I'm NOT taking no for an answer.

She wants to be selfless and argue. She knows Rachel's day was also rough. Instead, she accepts her offer, her limit of arguments for the day maxed.

 **Donna:** I don't know how to thank you except with pricey wine when you arrive.

 _A gift from Harvey._ Her letting go of him has become a habit, but the abundance of his generosity at least makes the emotional burning ritual of him a bit easier to repeat. She's grown more than weary of their symbolized tune though, and tonight she may have permanently scratched the record of Donna-and-Harvey with deeper cuts than his Miles Davis.

* * *

As soon as Donna's door opens to Rachel the tears flow. She's been holding them in the whole night and the pressure to spill everything breaks free. Rachel drops her overnight bag and holds her. Rachel is a soft landing, the contrast in PSL's world of hardness.

Guilt washes over Donna because she's the emotional empath, and she knows what it's like to have your stores depleted by someone else, and damned if she ever wants to use Rachel in that way.

But soon the details of the night start to spill.

Donna pours them both copious amounts of wine and sinks into her sofa, leveling. "He kissed back. He wanted me. But I didn't want to chance us going too far before we had time to process. In the end, he still didn't fight for me."

"I still can't believe you did it. How did you leave things?"

"I told him maybe it was a mistake. Maybe this is my final signal he'll never be ready."

Rachel frowned, her shoulders falling as her eyes took time to trace Donna's face. "Remember what you told me with Mike? You said to give him time. Maybe you need to do the same for Harvey?"

"I'm so done with resets."

"I know. But maybe you don't have to reset?"

Rachel hadn't felt the heat between them. She couldn't know how easily he let her slip away, twice, in spite of that heat.

"Don't take this as me trying to change your mind. But you _know_ him. You know his history, and that he's with someone. You said you talked to Mike yesterday, and you had a huge conversation with Louis. Harvey may need a moment to catch up." Rachel's voice was gentle, but prodding.

Donna swallowed back more wine, knowing her best friend's words held truth. "I'm just so exhausted from hurting myself because of loving him."

She hadn't meant to let the words slip. To herself, or especially Rachel. She'd verbally rationalized them away for years but apparently the night wouldn't let her stop making revelations.

It's the second time that night she's made a declaration ending in the other person's mouth hanging open, only Rachel has the sense enough to respond. "I'm so sorry."

They finish off the bottle of wine and curl up in Donna's queen bed together well beyond the midnight hour. Donna fades in and out of sleep in waves until her alarm jolts them awake the next morning.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! That finale has invaded too many of my daily thoughts, so even though I'm sure I'll be so far off the mark, I had to let my imagination free for awhile while we wait. As always, I own nothing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Quick note: Unbeta'd. And considering it's after 2am that may be a mistake. Also, the italic section may slightly venture into M category. Nothing too fancy, don't get too excited. :P**

* * *

Five hours of fitful sleep in a shared bed with Rachel looks rough on Donna. She tries to summon the well-practiced habit of being pissed at Harvey to give herself an emotional boost. The act is one she's well developed over the years, but after kissing her long-time boss, the emotion feels flat. Her hair looks as limp as her heart heals. Her skin is almost transparent like the emotions she's lingering under the surface.

Rachel joins her in the bathroom, staring in the reflection. Her attention quickly shifts to Donna with a frown.

Confirmation plunged in Donna's chest. She might as well have her emotions written in permanent marker on her face from her friend's expression.

Rachel pulls back Donna's hair, meeting her eyes in the mirror, her lips pulling up in sympathy. "Donna you're going to make me cry. It's going to be okay. Maybe you should take the day?"

"No Rach. I have to do this. I don't want Harvey to know that.."

"Donna," Rachel sympathizes.

"I just wish it all wouldn't show. Why did my body have to choose today to hide my fabulousness?"

Rachel lips pull up in the smallest smile. "Well, it's a good thing there's two of us here. Harvey is going to regret ever letting you walk away." Rachel hugs an arm around Donna's shoulders, giving her a squeeze. "We're going to make you feel your best."

Donna leans her head to rest against Rachel's. More thankful than ever to have her kind unicorn of a friend to hold her by the hand for the rare event she felt herself slipping. She didn't feel like she had it in her to fight emotional fatigue alone today. But with a friend, it became an act of empowering self-care, instead of the whispers of self-pity tickling against her ear.

Thirty minutes later, Rachel had tamed her hair into a central side-do, dressed her in her sleeveless Ibiza teal dress that _made_ her cleavage and dipped down the back. She paired it with nude Louboutin's, the ones that put her just shy of Harvey's height. Rachel did her makeup with a slight more flair than usual, hiding less of her fuck-you-Harvey that she might have otherwise dared. She finished the look off with lipstick closest to red without venturing fully out of the pink category.

This is what best friends were for. Because dammit, this wasn't for Harvey, this was for her to look like the five million dollars she was. Five million because, hello inflation. And she works for a top tier law firm.

They pair Rachel in her Lanvin Halter dress, something making Rachel equally sexy, showing off her fabulous tits, touching it off with a pair of Manolo's. They plan to walk into PSL as fancy wrapped goddesses that rule for the day. And if Rachel happens to knock Mike to his knees? That's the fortunate side benefit Donna will happily gift to her friend. One of them should be happy with a spectacular sex life.

She feels colossally better as they step into a cab together, except for the lingering uncertainty from the night before. She knows where she stands, even though the admittance to herself leaves her more open than she's comfortable with. But Harvey kissing back, and close to thoroughly so is still in her thoughts, along with his 'maybe' she made a mistake. Couldn't he ever just give her final clarity?

What she wanted from him. _Needed_.

And finally, the uncertain questions she wants to smack her own face for: _W_ _hat about her made him run?_ _When he could obviously make a move with others_ _?_

The fact she's questioning herself is reason enough to walk away emotionally. He should value for enough to put her first.

* * *

Harvey's dreams are filled with fiery red and blond that night. Except, instead of the woman he should be feeling guilt for, he sees another.

" _Donna," he says softly as he finds her on the roof. He makes purposeful steps forward and pulls her to his lips. She angles her head, her nails scraping the back of his neck, sending goosebumps all the way to his toes. Her breasts press a weight against his chest that leaves him ache to feel them bare. Her lips are so soft, her mouth hot and wet. His tongue sweeps inside, brushing against hers with a groan. She tastes of wine, fitting because of the heady feeling she's giving him._

 _He angles her head with the brush of his thumb to her chin to get them closer. He's grown hard, jerking at her waist to feel her against him. She's pulling his shirt out and he's searching desperately for a way to get her out of her dress. They're soon nude, and he's on top of her, pressing her bare body into the concrete, her crying out his name. Her voice grows deeper, something familiar but quickly turning to a bucket of ice. His mother calls his name, her eyes slanted in derision as she steps closer._

 _Donna's in a bed of red satin sheets, his need pressing between her legs. They're burning up, sweaty and slick with her desire as he's working, taking them to unexplored heights. They're a tangle of moans and gasps, open mouths and aching need. Her legs are hooked over the bend in his arms to give him the deepest access. She's calling to him again, approaching her peak. His name on her lips carry him to the edge, but he panics as the tone turns into his worst nightmare. The voice he avoided his entire adult life. His mother's returned. She's berating him for his hipocracy. He then profusely apologizes, desperate to make her understand as Donna slips away._

 _Again and again he's in some form of compromising but ecstatic situation with Donna, before it ends with his mother interrupting with accusation._

He fades into the dream all night, nothing about the night restful.

Everything about him shows this as he walks out of his apartment. His eyes are without light, his hair far from behaving, his tie not laying flat despite six tries. Even his walk feels labored, like his gait is refusing to fall in line. He can't hide the fallout of what's happened.

It's rare he's at a loss of how to shut off the parts of himself most deeply hidden. He's perfected cold and composed. Except it seems, when it comes to Donna.

He's not sure where to place that realization, especially since the act of it even feels like another betrayal.

 _Paula Agard._

Her name, his, and that word- betrayal -were never supposed to connect. Of all the times Donna could have acted, she picked the least logical. He couldn't be knocked over by her spell, even if he'd wanted to be. She'd chosen the moment with the highest probability to turn his lifelong identity into shambles.

He's been contemplating the best action, his final move undecided. He can't believe he's standing here.

 _Is telling Paula the right decision? He has to...right?_

Then her history tumbles down his gut. Maybe telling her is more cruel, especially if it wouldn't happen again. _Would she ever be able to accept Donna working by his side?_ And if history is an indicator, letting Donna go is never an option for him.

 _Was there a chance Donna would ever kiss him again?_

He hates himself. A no answer makes his gut clench tightly, like it's trying to grip a severe and fleeting loss he can't sacrifice. The strong reaction towards never being with Donna when he's with someone else disgusts him.

He briefly lets the strain of that reality take hold. Telling Paula it's over, he has feelings for someone else. He'd run to Donna, jerking her body to his with a jolt, his lips crashing into hers. Yielding. Opening Pandora's box he's been denying the search to for far longer than is sane.

His mind wants to explore his daydream into x-rated, with a cool burn that starts from his gut down into his thighs. A warning perhaps. A mixture of elicit want and a sick feeling develop at the betrayal. The start of them would become that now. Dancing in the darkest of reds when he never wanted to meddle in those painful waters.

He hates her for a moment, not sure whether that path will make him further hate himself.

He arrives at work, and walks out of the elevators. He's stalled outside the doors. She's in front of him. Teal fabric pours over every curve in a way that makes his mouth go dry.

Her face is even, with her lips maybe even turned up in the corners. He knows better when he sees her eyes, wide and deer like. Fragility wrapped up in exquisite confidence and grace. Every barrier in him begins to crumble, wanting nothing more than to fix, to protect, to harbor her from the murkiness they stood in the middle of.

"Louis is waiting in your office."

It's all she says before she's walking away from him, all hips and legs as she's moving towards the location of the moment from the night before.

His new secretary, Irma, hands him a stack of files. Once in his office, he's surrounded by everyone he doesn't want to face first order. Donna, Louis, and Mike. Rachel could complete the set, but she's thankfully absent from the party.

"Hi Harvey, I know you spoke to Jessica. I figured we'd need a meeting first thing," Louis rambles.

He sighs as he moves behind his desk, unable to hide the irritation of the invasion. He curses himself as well for letting the Jessica news out of his mind all morning, when it needs to be on the forefront. He settles in his chair, taking a note Donna and Mike are still silent.

"The two of you heard the news?" He directs at them, avoiding a linger into Donna's eyes as if they'd burn him to a crisp.

"I feel like we're partially responsible. We should find a way to reverse this," Mike says, guilt painting his face.

"No, it's not what she wants," Harvey answers quietly, not without regret.

Louis takes a step closer. "I know that's what she said she wanted. But she's been there for each of us. I don't think we should abandon her." Louis's mouth hangs open, his shoulders slumped at the weight of the situation.

The conversation hits Harvey in a place where he already feels fractures. There's an intimacy between them all, and he needs to shift away in order to remain productive. Two blindsides in the period of hours feels unfair but he doesn't have time to dwell on the pity.

He wants to put everything into protecting Jessica, but he also knows the firm is what she values most and wants saved. Despite the three of them feeling chivalrous, they concede to her wishes.

Ideas for a media spin are quickly at a standstill. Admitting guilt after the Mike situation is business suicide. Blaming Jessica and having her take the entire fall makes them incompetent at best, and they're not willing to further tarnish her name.

Donna is unusually quiet through the exchange, and he knows for experience her intuitive thinking is an asset in these kinds of situations.

"Donna, do you have any ideas?" He dares ask.

She sucks in a breath, sighing. "I think we should bring in a professional. I know someone from a PR company-"

Something about the suggestion cuts him, the suggestion unsettling a voice that says she's lost doubt in him. "Donna, we're a law firm. We know how to create a spin. I'm not paying a stranger to come into our house and do a job we do quite well."

"And yet we have no ideas." Her arms cross. "You asked for my advice. Is the objection because it's my idea or to being vulnerable?"

He pauses, daring to stare at her. He's uncomfortable with the accusation with the others in the room. "We'll figure something out. We're not going to hire someone else to do our job."

"Are we back to you speaking for the rest of us? Leaving us out of decisions?" She asks.

"Donna..." He warns.

She lifts her head. "I was under the impression you were fine with seeking outside assistance when things got a little complicated on the inside."

The cutting undertone behind her words lights the anger inside him again. He straightens, unaware until that moment he's been weighed down. He's careful with his answer, not wanting to bend but afraid of where they're heading. "When there's no indication of a solution that might be necessary. We're not there."

She locks into him like a laser marking a target. "Really. Enlighten me how you came to that conclusion, please. I'd love the clarity."

His brow tightens, his breaths rising in his chest. He fights a primal urgency for something physical, a laddering growl forming deep within. He wants to drag her somewhere private to have this out, or pull her to him to let off a different kind of steam. It scares the hell out of him, but he can't seem to tame the reaction she's lit between them.

"What the hell is going on here?" Louis interrupts.

Mike puts a hand on Louis's chest. "Uh guys, do you two want us to go?"

"No," they answer in stereo.

Harvey can't be alone in a room with her right now. Despite the very urge to be.

"Uh, good. Because right now, you look like you might kill each other. If we can't come up with a spin on this, someone impartial might not be a bad idea," Mike suggests.

Harvey sighs, conceding he can't focus right now. "Fine. But I get final veto."

"Which I'm sure you're ready to use," Donna accuses.

Mike steps between them, hands pressing towards the floor. "Let's just hear them out, okay?"

"I'll go and make the phone call now," Donna says.

She walks between him and Mike, not taking the concern as she bumps against him. The move is aggressive, especially when he's accosted by honey, almond, and chamomile.

"What's going on with Donna? And you Harvey?" Louis asks.

Harvey wasn't in the mood to satisfy Louis's curiosity, even with a quip.

"Louis, I think maybe we should give them some space," Mike says.

Louis narrows his eyes. "Bullshit. If he did something to Donna-"

"I didn't. But it's between us." Harvey leveled with what sounded more like calm honesty than the exhaustion he truly felt.

Louis scoffed with an eye roll as he turned away and walked out in silence.

Mike didn't move, his stance half-turned between Harvey and the door, as if he's undecided on his next move. "I was going to work on the Lupo pro-bono, but with everything going on here-"

"Just go. I'm sure Donna's PR firm will get things settled."

"I was worried more about the two of you." The last syllable carried over normal boundaries, kind of like the subject matter.

"Go work on your pro-bono Mike."

Harvey couldn't tell Mike what he hadn't been able to make sense of himself. Especially with the vested interest they both had at protecting the woman at the center of it.

When Mike reluctantly leaves, Harvey's ready for a break despite just arriving. He forces himself through the morning, his only further contact with Donna being an impersonal and overly professional email from her.

From: donnapaulsen

Subject: P.R. Company appointment for approval

Dear Harvey,

I've spoken with Morrell PR and have set an appointment with the head of the company, Joseph Morrell, today at 1:30p.m. I've scheduled conference room A if you'd like to attend to finalize approval. If you have any objections to this arrangement, please advise what adjustments you prefer I make.

Sincerely _(which he reads as 'Fuck You')_ ,

Donna Paulsen

Specter/Litt COO

He has a long pull of breath to try and ease the pounding in his chest. It's a familiar arrival that appears when she pulls away. His lunch today is going to begin with a first course of scotch. He sets aside the thought that she's baiting him, unsure whether the conclusion is fair.

He straightens his coat, wanting out of the building. As soon as he steps out of his glass door, trouble appears. The worst he can handle today.

Paula is walking straight towards him, and more importantly, right passed Donna who's sitting in her office.

* * *

 **A/N's: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! Real life keeps taking me away from my imaginary ones. I can't thank everyone enough to the follows and reviews. They totally help me continue! The dreams weren't my best work, but I didn't want to be too over the top considering how they were going to end.**


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Fair warning, this is full of angst. See you at the end with more notes._

* * *

 _Paula is walking straight towards him, and more importantly, right past Donna who's sitting in her office._

Harvey's heart thunders when he sees Paula moving straight toward him, and more importantly right past Donna. The same Donna currently sitting in her office where their kiss happened the night before.

Damage control is instant. Long, hurried strides reach Paula, a hand to her back providing coaxing pressure for them to walk the opposite way.

"You're here. We should get lunch." He attempts to keep his tone casual even though it's rushed.

She slows, not having moved more than a door down. He continues walking, hoping she'll follow.

She doesn't. She's planted with reserved discomfort on her face. "What's going on, Harvey?"

He attempts to even his face, chancing a glance to Donna's view just feet away. "I was just on the way out to lunch. I figured if you're here you'd want to join me."

"I do," she answers with measure. "But usually one starts with a request. Why the rush, Harvey?"

His palms go up, flapping slightly. "Because I'm goddamned hungry." He scoffs then, a palpitating tremble in his chest. He had to get her out of there, away from Donna and away from the scene of their indiscretion.

Paula looks stricken, wary of his outburst.

People are staring, and he worries there eye-lines will become arrows pointing Donna to exactly what he's attempting to avoid.

"Maybe I should be on my way. Call me when you're less busy."

 _Shit._ She's leaving at least, but the last thing he wants is to hurt her more than he already has to.

He follows, waiting until he's well out of earshot to call after her.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a... Rough day." He internally cringes at the weakness of his words.

"I know you've been under a lot of stress. And I try to be as understanding as I can be. But I'm beginning to think there's a reason you don't want me here."

He scrubs his face. "Can we just talk about it somewhere else?"

Paula nods, keen reservation on her face.

As they travel down the elevator at opposite ends apart to meet Ray, he tells himself this is to protect Paula. _Her_ running into Donna. A confrontation would make Paula uncomfortable, especially after what's happened.

The reasons fit in his head about his neatly as rocks, their sharp edges a reminder his entire reality is out of place.

The truth is it's not about Paula. He's a shitty boyfriend for it, but he realizes he hadn't wanted _Donna_ to see _her_. His gripping fear is about not wanting to hurt Donna, not wanting to make her think Paula showing up with some kind of decision on his part. That he either chose Paula and wants to spare himself the awkward conversation, or worse yet he's forcing her to glimpse them together in a vindictive move.

That's when the truth lands like a right hook to his jaw.

 _Being with Paula feels like a betrayal to Donna._ One he can't keep living with.

He knows then. _He has to tell Paula._ _Today_ _._

He's going into this with poor planning, her mood already in the place where she sums up his bullshit and hands him a plate of it with a fork. She's perching at the opposite side of the town car, watching the city race by. He wonders if she has an inclination it's slipping away, or if he's confusing her abilities for his favorite redhead. He wonders what else he's confused between them in the effort to make Paula fit.

He has Ray take them to his place. He needs privacy for what he's about to say. She follows inside, then rids herself of her keys, coat, and handbag in a way that he imagines is like hydrating and shedding robes before a ring match.

"You said you were starving and you bring me here."

He frowns at the statement but ignores the bait that would lead further into a fight. "Paula, something's happened."

Her eyes widen as if it's a split second before an oncoming crash. He wonders if she somehow knows. Her expression settles. "At work?"

"Yes." Work's the starting point.

"Is something wrong with the firm?"

He can leave it here. Answer yes because it's actually honest because of what's going on with Jessica. Spare her the type of truth he swore he'd never hurt someone with.

Only him and Donna would know, and possibly Rachel which led to Mike. The chance of any of them letting it slip is unlikely. Even though Donna has become unsettlingly unpredictable by path of her lips. He could just let Paula fade away gently.

Guilt won't let that happen. Donna had lit fire to a truth he couldn't let go of. "No." He pauses. "With Donna."

Alarm returns. "Did you sleep with her?"

"No," he answers firmly. "She kissed me." _A kiss._ It sounds so simple yet his head is spinning like a centrifuge.

Her lips press together. "I can't say I'm surprised. We knew her feelings and she seemed to have an unhealthy attachment—"

"Paula," he stops her.

Her arms are crossed he needs to offer a bigger piece of the truth. "I kissed her back."

She swallows, frowning. "I know you care for her. And with your previous confusion in therapy..."

She's blind to his attempts at an easy let-down. He inches closer, careful to inflict the least amount of damage. "I didn't want to stop."

The admission strikes, but the expression of anger is absent, her hardness too light. "Well, you've been honest with me. That's an important step in recovering from something like this. Donna has been tempting you and playing on your emotions."

"Paula." Her name repeats like another warning. "Leave Donna out of this. Be angry with me."

Something flashes in her expression. Blankness, maybe without the excuses built up behind it.

Her face turns down, before her chin raises high again with a crease he'd been waiting for. She clears her throat, a break trapped in it. "Do you want to end this? Are you in love with her?"

He hasn't spoken yet, thoughts spinning in his head like an out-of-control merry-go-round ready to throw him off. He hasn't dare let the words in but ironically Paula probably sees the truth anyway. "I don't know what I am. I can't deny there's something more between us."

"We'll then you have a decision to make Harvey. Because she just kissed you knowing about me being in your life. It's not fair to me for you to continue your relationship in the same capacity."

"You want me to fire her? She's my COO Paula."

"Is that what it would take to separate the two of you?"

He meets her with a hard glare. "She's been by my side for thirteen years."

She looks away, wiping eccentrically at her forehead.

"She's my best friend," he says even though the label seems not enough.

"Which is why you should understand why I'm feeling this way. Are you ending this?"

"I—"

"You need to give me something, Harvey."

"I don't know, okay? But I'm not ending my working relationship with her." He swallows. He's tired. Of fighting. Avoiding. Denying. "I'm just really confused right now."

She seals her lips together like she can superglue them at will but he sure there's much held back. She reaches for her belongings and begins the descent out of his life.

He thinks he should stop her. Try and offer her comfort. He cares for her, maybe a lot. He doesn't want to add her to the tally of women he's crumbled because it worsens the odds he could ever leave the most important one unscathed.

As her heels click away he realizes he can't. His need for her has dissolved, eradicated with a stolen kiss he can't forget.

* * *

Donna is furious Harvey can't be bothered to attend the meeting with Morrell PR. She's sure it's a targeted message to flip-off her idea and make her second guess herself. It's a well-worn tactic he's used on many others before her.

Louis had a pre-scheduled deposition, so the proposal ends up being a one-on-one affair. Joseph Morrell is confident, without the threatening intensity of someone like Harvey. He lays out a thorough and multilayered plan with impressive presentation, all with an easy conversation she finds comfortable to slip into.

He's ridiculously attractive. Mid 30s, tall and slender, but fit. With a head full of dark hair and facial scruff that made her stomach free-fall. His suit is a touch Italian and skin-like with chalk stripes. His Tartan motif tie tells her the man would happily explore outside the usual.

He's sending his usual signals he'd be happy to intermingle any more intimate way. He's telling her about their mutual friend and a night at a theater event. He's funny and she enjoys the weightless conversation. She's interested but can't with everything going on from the previous night.

"Do you have all my contact points?" He leans at a bit closer, giving her a heady whiff of his cologne- fresh and with a hint of spice.

Her eyes narrow at his attempts. "Ready if I need them," she dares. Enough to match his confidence, but not give him an open ticket.

"We should get a dinner when my contract expires with Paulson-Spector-Litt. To celebrate our success?" His hand brushes her arm, resting there.

"It's Spector-Litt," she corrects.

"Not to me."

She bites her lip. "I'll think about it." She may need the distraction in the coming weeks.

The glass panels rattle and she startles, looking to the door.

Harvey is the cause, wearing a firm glare strong enough to slice the conference room in half. He strides into the room with so much ownership he may as well have pissed all over the furniture, stopping right into their personal space.

"Prosperous meeting?" The question is accusing, with a quick glance down to where Joseph's hand had rested.

"It was, but it ended. We were just catching up, since you decided to miss it." Her words hold a warning.

Harvey spine is rod straight. "Great. Why don't you leave the notes with my _secretary_ ," he directs with hint toward the other man.

She grits her teeth at his emphasis, unsettled at not being able to read the full instructions to the game he's playing.

Joseph stills, glancing between the two of them to get indication of whatever landmine had entered the room.

"Harvey Specter?" When Harvey responds with the cock of his head and tightened jaw, Joseph clears his throat. "I'm Joseph Morrell. My company looks forward to assisting you." He holds out a hand, which Harvey doesn't acknowledge.

Donna wants to kill him. Or at the very least pick up the glass paperweight globe in the center of the conference table and aim for his head.

"Great Jonathan-"

"It's _Joseph_."

"Right. I'll look over your notes and myself or Mr. Litt will be in touch."

Joseph lands a dagger loaded glare of his own before shifting his attention to Donna. "Nice catching up, Donna. I'll be in touch." He picks up his satchel and a stack of papers and exits, leaving them alone.

Harvey swings his head from the disappearing form of Joseph, then back to her. Pressured accusation has mounted on his face. He wants to throw whatever is building in him to her, expecting her to somehow wear it so it leaves the revolving list of emotions he's too prideful (read:chickenshit) to examine.

His eyes darkened further. "Are you kidding me with that bullshit?"

"You mean working with a PR company to help our firm bullshit?"

"That's not what I walked in on. And after last night-"

"Last night you implied was a mistake. So who the fuck cares what you walked in? Who I flirt with, who I date, or who I sleep with is none of your concern."

"It is when whoever it is affects the firm."

"And how many women have you fucked that were somehow involved with the firm?" She can tell she's thrown him, because they both know she could recite a page-long list of half the names without effort.

He angles his head, his jaw tensed. "And how many of those did you give me input on?"

"That's when I was your secretary, which I'm not anymore. I'm not your girlfriend, your therapist, your lover, your anything."

"Thirteen fucking years, Donna. And all of a sudden we're nothing? I'm not even your friend?"

"You've been ignoring me since you got your new office," she points out, forcing herself to remain even even with the building rattle of her nerves.

"Because I've been freaking out I lost you again." His palms flash up.

She scoffs, shaking her head. "It's because you didn't want my opinion about you fucking your therapist. Who by the way you missed this meeting with to have a nooner. Don't think I didn't see you leave with her." She points down the hall. "So don't you dare lecture me as the one affecting the firm with my love life."

"I didn't," he states simply.

"Bullshit. That's exactly what you are doing."

"I mean have an anything with her. We were arguing."

"Why? Disagree on whose couch to do it on?"

He gives her a glare. "I told her the truth about what happened."

She feels a breath stick in her throat, and then she quickly lets it free because she's firmly planting herself in the land of no more regrets. "No."

His brows crease. "What?"

"If you just told her I kissed you it's the coward's way to honesty, and leaves out the same things you weren't willing to admit last night."

"You're right. Which is why I said truth."

"Then enlighten me. Because Dammit Harvey if anyone deserves that it's me."

His body straightens, his lips parting and then closing again. He so tense it's as if he's trying to hold up a collapsing building on his own shoulders.

 _Typical_. She goes around him, feeling every millisecond they are together sucking more of her patience dry.

His hand catches just above her elbow, stopping her firmly but without harshness. Their eyes lock, the parallel positioning of their bodies stirring more inside her than it should.

"Wait." The word is a question but a command all rolled into one syllable.

Her shoulders drop in defeat. Emotion spreads in the shine of his eyes, the shift of his jaw that makes her throat ache.

She hates him. And even more so herself. The fine cracks form so easily in her resolve. The kind that leave her vulnerable to a Harvey-themed avalanche.

He takes a sidestep, putting himself in front of her so close their bodies could touch with the tiniest shift. His fingers loosen on her arm, then the backs of them trace the slightest path to her shoulder.

A barely audible gasp leaves her lips. They're closer now. Too close.

His eyes close and his chin drops. "I was in shock last night. I'm angry and confused. Like you tilted my entire ship."

"I had rock something or I might never know."

"Now I'm drowning. You didn't care what this could do to me as long as it righted you."

She disengages her spell, looking away. "Nothing about this is right for me."

He ducks his head, eyes tracing her face. "Why couldn't you have just told me?"

"You know the answer to that."

He sighs, his face shifting forward. His tongue slips over his lips and they part.

She's holds a breath.

"Mr. Specter?"

Irma, his new secretary's voice makes him rigid on the spot. He steps back, spinning away to face the older woman. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt." She approaches. Paula Agard stopped by and left these for you." She places a key with a too familiar leather fob in his hand. "She said I should get them to you as soon as I could." She hands him a file and rattles on about a case which Donna ignores because the heat of her coursing blood lights fire to her senses.

Then his secretary is gone. He's rubbing his brow as Donna circles to confront him.

"You couldn't be bothered to replace the keyring?"

"Don't make this into more than it is."

Her eyes land on the object, the final sign that represents how easy it'd been for him to replace her. She has nothing left for him. She starts to walk away.

"Just like that? You blow up my life and relationship, forcing me into my worst fears, and you're walking away because of the keychain?"

She spins around just long enough to respond. " _Maybe_ you are right. _Maybe_ this was an awful mistake." She uses his answer from the night before to shut down further paths that he'd shown time and again led to nowhere.

"Donna."

She keeps walking, emotions fueling her flee since without it the energy would have no place to go but out. She's getting to the elevator, not even knowing her destination except for away from him and the place that is a collected signature of memories she'd never escape from within the walls. But then he's in front of her again. Like a game of Whack-a-mole she never intended to start.

His chest is rising and falling. She's unsure whether it's from anger or catching up with her. She wills the coiling emotion gearing up to implode to hold off long enough for the repeated pressing of the elevator button to give her escape.

His hard eyes have locked her in, silently with the joint awareness they're openly surrounded by colleagues.

The elevator dings as the doors part. Before she can protest he takes her by the hand and leads them into the door for the stairwell. The door clicks shut leaving them alone in a cool echo chamber.

His eyes have taken on a glassy edge, his temples throbbing as if his veins want to break free as much as she does.

She sighs. "I thought I made it obvious I was through talking."

"And I thought I made it obvious I didn't think it was fair."

"Of course you wouldn't. It doesn't benefit _you_."

"Oh, so now _I'm_ selfish?"

An erratic rage fills her a desperate tensing of a band that's been wound so tightly for so long its hold snapped.

Her palms fling out at her sides. "Yes! How that's a goddamn surprise you I have no idea."

"Donna —"

"No! _No._ You don't get to Donna me. You're blaming me for your world going under?"

" _You_ kissed _me,"_ he states plainly.

She stalks closer, jamming a finger toward him. "You hired me, then pushed for me to sleep with you, then work for you again. You demanded my everything, affecting every area of my life for the last thirteen years.

His Adam's apple bob's.

"You reward me with grandiose moments, that are just beyond the line of appropriate, and then you shut down any reaction I have from them."

Something wild and terrifying makes her not familiar with the road she's barreling down. Her emotions are an untamed destination, and she only travels by carefully researched itinerary. She swallows, trying to steady the feeling.

"You said you loved me, then walked away. We spent months with this building feeling that..."

He straightens. "What?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

The clarity suddenly hits her, settling in like a familiar friend. She let herself slip inside a fantasy. Despite telling herself repeatedly to read nothing into any of it, that it meant nothing, especially to her. She'd been placating her own heart while telling herself she was over it all.

And now she'd dragged him into the unthinkable delusion. When she'd been outwardly assuring herself that hadn't been worth the risk.

They'd never work. Maybe some part of both of them was in love. She's attractive, even if he liked to ignore that fact. And one didn't spend that many years alongside someone like Harvey and not even contemplate the possibility especially when they'd taken the rendezvous successfully once before. But the reality remained in front of them.

"We've had so many opportunities we never took. That should have been sign enough."

A crease forms in his brow, with a nearly imperceptible shaking of his head.

She looks away, feeling the weight of tallied years suddenly heavier than they've ever been before. "The answer was always there. I knew that and somehow I let myself forget. For that I'm sorry." A pounding has begun assaulting the back of her head. A warning this has gone on to painful degrees. "We were never meant for something more. Look how fast you were able to turn to Paula Aguard."

He shifts to protest, his entire being shaken like she'd seen it many times before.

"I'm going to need some space."

"Donna, _please._ You don't —"

"This was never healthy for either of us. Just walk away."

A stubbornness fills his expression. Sadness, regret, fear, anger, fight. The slight tremble of his jaw almost makes her try and take it all back.

Then he's gone, leaving her cold and hollow in the concrete landing of a stairwell.

* * *

 _A/N: First off, I'm SO sorry it's taking me so long to update my stories. As some of you know, my younger sister died a couple of months ago. I intend to finish(and hopefully write more!) but bear with me as it may take me awhile to get to it._

 _Secondly, I'm sorry for leaving it with so much angst. Or maybe I'm not if you love angst like me. I sat on this chapter for awhile, and am still fretting it's not "right". Even so, I hope you enjoy and thank you SO much for the amazing reviews. I totally ended up getting back to writing Darvey this weekend thanks to a couple of you messaging me._

 _I own nothing and all that jazz._


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